


Jughead's Treehouse

by Scarcettwo



Category: Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Archie is an emotional boy okay leave him alone, Asexual Character, Crying, Divorce, First Kiss, Gen, Graduation, Kindergarten, M/M, Middle School, mentions of Archie and Grundy and the nastiness that entails, treehouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9595967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarcettwo/pseuds/Scarcettwo
Summary: Five stories about Jughead and Archie, connected by Jughead's treehouse, ages 6, 10, 13, 16, and 18.“I still can’t believe Reggie got his first kiss before me,” Archie grumbled.“It’s not like it’s a contest,” Jughead said, and the rustle of blankets told Archie he was shrugging.“Still,” Archie said.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jugheadjones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugheadjones/gifts).



> sunnyjughead this is all your fault

  
Archie sighed and when he didn’t feel better, he sighed again. He didn’t like school. All the other kids seemed to be friends already, somehow, even though he’d only been sick one day. We wished Betty was in afternoon kindergarten with him and not morning kindergarten.

The teacher ignored him, as did all the kids at his table. He recognized most of the kids vaguely from the playground and preschool, but he was effectively alone in here.

After ages talking about the letter A, a letter which Archie was already pretty familiar with, it was finally time for recess.

“Hi,” said a voice behind him. “I’m Forsythe. What’s your name?”

“I’m Archie,” Archie said, taken aback. “Nice to meet you.”

Forsythe was shorter than him, with messy black hair and a long nose, but he was smiling brightly. He was missing a tooth on either side of his front two.

“Why weren’t you here yesterday?” Forsythe asked.

“I was sick,” Archie said. “Don’t worry, I’m better now.”

“That sucks. Wanna play marco polo?”

“I thought you could only play marco polo in the pool,” Archie said.

“Nope!” Forsythe shook his head. “C’mon we’ve got a bunch of people, let’s go!”

Reggie Mantle, who Archie definitely remembered from daycare, was it first.

“Marco!” Reggie called. Archie, standing on top of the slide almost directly above him, stifled giggles.

“Polo,” came a chorus of voices, including Archie's.

Reggie straightened and started scrambling up the slide.

Archie yelled and sprinted off, joining Forsythe where he was hanging off the outside of the playground’s bridge.

“Marco!”

“Polo!” they yelled, startling Reggie, and let go, running across the woodchips.

Archie grinned as Reggie found someone else to chase.

“I just got a treehouse in my background, wanna come over after school and see?” Forsythe asked.

“Sure!” Archie said. “I’ve never been in a real treehouse.”

The rest of the day passed by quickly, now that he had something to look forward to and a friend in the class. Finally, at three o’clock, the bell rang and Archie practically leapt out of his chair, and they grabbed their backpacks together.

“Cool backpack,” Archie told him. It was Batman. “Mine’s Superman.”

Forsythe examined it, smiling broadly. “Awesome. We can start out own Justice League! Oh hey, there’s my mom.”

Forsythe dragged Archie over, and Archie had no idea how someone with that short of legs could move that quickly.

“Mom this is Archie can he come over and see the treehouse?”

Forsythe’s mom smiled at him. “If his parents are okay with it.”

“Oh yeah,” Archie said, looking around for his mom.

He spotted her easily and it was his turn to drag Forsythe over.

“Mom, can I go over to Forsythe’s? He’s really nice and he has a treehouse!”

Mom ruffled his hair. “Let’s find his parents. You can’t just invite yourself over.”

“No, I invited him,” Forsythe announced.

“It’s very nice to meet you Forsythe, I’m Mrs. Andrews.”

“Nice to meet you Mrs. Andrews,” Forsythe said. “My mom is over here.”

They waited on tenterhooks for the moms to discuss it.

“I’ll pick you up at five,” Mom said, giving Archie a big hug and a kiss. Forsythe cheered and they ran along the sidewalk to his house and into his backyard, abandoning their backpacks on the front step.

“Wow,” Archie said, looking up at the treehouse. “It’s awesome!”

“Thanks!” Forsythe said. “C’mon, let’s go up!”

Archie followed him up the ladder. It was still new, the wood on the outside still a bit splintery.

They played pirates and Justice League and ate goldfish crackers in the treehouse until Archie’s mom came back.

Archie frowned. “I have to go.”

Forsythe frowned. “I don’t want you to go.

“We’ll see each other tomorrow at least,” Archie said.

“That’s true,” Forsythe nodded. “Let’s go.”

Archie went down the ladder, but he wasn’t used to it, and slipped a little over halfway down, knocking his head on a rung and feeling blood well up between his eyes.

He couldn’t see, but he could hear Forsythe bursting into tears and helping him into the house.

Archie had to go to the hospital, and his mom fretted over him the whole time. Dad took work off early to come to the hospital. It wasn’t that big a deal, at least Archie didn’t think so.

“I don’t know about this Forsythe kid,” Mom said.

“Oh Mary, it wasn’t his fault,” Dad said. “People fall, it wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“It wasn’t his fault Mom,” Archie insisted. “I’m fine.”

“You haven’t seen yourself in a mirror yet,” Mom said.

“Oh,” Archie said.

There was a big red line connecting his eyebrows.

“It’s certainly a look,” Mom said.

“It’ll fade,” Dad said confidently. “And you’ll be fine.”

He needed stitches and glue, but he went to school the next day.

“Wow, what happened to your face?” Reggie asked. They were waiting in line for class to start.

“I fell,” Archie shrugged. He looked around, but Forsythe was nowhere in sight.

They were a minute away from walking in when Forsythe showed up, his mom practically shoving him into line. Archie left line to greet him.

“Hey Forsythe check it out isn’t it cool?"

Forsythe took one look at him and burst into tears.

* * *

He stared at the clock, willing it to move faster, but the usually-comforting, familiar _tick tock tick tock_ stayed the same. Ten-o-three.

Archie groaned and flopped back onto his bed. He had to get to Jughead’s treehouse, he’d promised, but he couldn’t go until his parents were at least in their bedroom. He knew his dad would be going to bed soon, but time was stretching, and his eyes were itching.

“I’m going to check on Archie before we talk,” Mom’s voice came floating up the stairs.

“I’ll be right there,” Dad responded, and the _creak crick crack_ of Mom coming up the stairs made Archie dig himself back under the covers and slow his breathing down.

The door was already open, but he sensed movement. Archie cracked one eye just barely, able to see nothing beyond blurs, but enough to know that Mom was coming in.

She bent down and kissed his forehead, then smoothed down his hair.

“Goodnight chicken,” Mom whispered. The stairs went _creak crack crick_ , which meant Dad was coming up the stairs.

Mom left the room, and left the door open a sliver.

He could hear quiet, furtive whispers from by their room down the hall, and crawled flat on the floor to the edge of the opened door. He could just make out what they were saying.

“When are we going to tell him?” That was Dad’s voice. He sounded worried.

But tell Archie what?

“Soon. I just need to finalize the apartment.”

“Chicago,” Dad said. “It’s gonna break him when you go.”

Mom was going to Chicago!

“Archie’s tougher than you think Fred.”

“I know that Mary, but he’s young. When parents get a separation or divorce a lot of kids think it’s their fault, and you know Archie’s that type of kid. We should have him go into his school counselor at least...”

Their words faded out in Archie’s ears. A divorce.

Hot tears sprung to his eyes and blurred his vision. He picked up the backpack he’d packed earlier and carefully tiptoed through his bedroom door. Every nerve felt like it was on fire, senses attuned to the slightest thing.

He waited for the shower to start before carefully going down the stairs, standing on the outside edges of each one so they wouldn’t creak. He had to get to Jughead’s house.

Archie managed to make it outside before he started crying, gulping, with air catching in his chest and making his whole body ache.

He ran to the treehouse, not stopping to even look across the street. Jughead didn’t live in the same house he’d lived in when they were six, and now he was Jughead instead of Forsythe, but the treehouse was the same, a constant over the past four years of his life.

He was out of breath by the time he climbed up, tears streaming down his face and his nose running.

“Archie!” Jughead exclaimed at the sight of him. “What happened?”

He couldn’t get enough air to respond, only short pants that made him feel like he was about to pass out.

“I, I, they,” Archie gave up.

Jughead tentatively touched his back, and when Archie leaned into it, he pulled him into a hug.

Jughead didn’t hug, and the surprise was enough to make him forget, just for a moment. Then the knowledge swept back down on him, and he sobbed anew.

Jughead was making shushing noises, but not in a mean way, in the kind, _shh-shh-shh-shh-hh-hh-hh-hh_ way, trailing off at the end, soothing in its repetition.

Archie didn’t know how long it was, but finally his chest un-tightened, and he took one last shaky, shuddering breath, and was quiet.

“What happened?” Jughead asked again. Archie couldn’t see his face. They were still sitting, hugging one another in the treehouse. Jughead’s whole shoulder was wet and snotty and gross, but Archie kept his head there anyway.

“My parents are getting a divorce,” Archie whispered, and the tears came back, quiet and hurt, hot against his skin and drowning his face.

“Jeez, I’m sorry,” Jughead said. Archie let out a hiccuping laugh at the so-very-Jughead thing he’d just said.

“I wasn’t supposed to know yet,” Archie continued. “Mom is supposed to move to Chicago. I don’t wanna move to Chicago.”

“You won’t,” Jughead said. “You can stay with me if you have to.”

“We could live in the treehouse,” Archie said. “We could put up those Christmas lights like Betty has in her room.”

“That would be so cool,” Jughead said. “See? It’ll all be fine. You can come over here when you don’t want to be home, and everything will stay the same.”

“But everything is about to change,” Archie said miserably, pulling away and curling into a tight ball. It just made him want to cry more. Mom always used to pick him up when he was in a ball and carry him through the house like that. Now she wasn’t even going to be there.

“Not me,” Jughead said. “Not Hot Dog, or Betty, or Reggie. Unfortunately.”

Archie couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Reggie could use an adjustment.”

“See?” Jughead said. “Change doesn’t always have to be bad.”

“But it is bad,” Archie pointed out. “My mom is leaving.”

Jughead was silent. “I’m sorry Archie.”

“Thanks Jughead.”

“Want to read Harry Potter?” Jughead asked.

“I don’t think I can even see,” Archie admitted, and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“I’ll read then,” Jughead said, and turned to the first page. _“The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it ‘the Riddle House,’ even though it had been many years since the Riddle family had lived there…”_

When the first fingers of dawn started to spread across the sky, Archie wiped his nose again and slung on his backpack

“I should go home,” Archie said.

Jughead put a bookmark-a fruit by the foot wrapper-in the book and handed it to him.

“This is your copy,” Archie said, nonplussed.

“I’m going to my uncle’s house today and he has all of them. You won’t have time to go to the library today anyway, and you need something to read,” Jughead said it like it was no big deal, but Archie knew he’d been planning on reading it on the long drive there.

Archie clutched the book tightly to his chest, embarrassed that he already felt the need to cry again.

“I’ll walk you home,” Jughead said.

“But you’re already at home.” Archie climbed carefully down the ladder.

“So?” Jughead shrugged and followed him down the ladder.

They were silent on the walk over, the only sounds were the birds and the scrape of Jughead’s shoes on the concrete.

“You’re a good friend,” Jughead said abruptly when they arrived at Archie’s house. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck.” He hugged Archie awkwardly and quickly and started walking home.

“Right back atcha!” Archie called after him. Jughead gave him a thumbs up.

* * *

Eighth grade spring dance, and Archie didn’t even know if he wanted to go. Middle school was miserable, with braces and pimples and friend groups breaking apart, and a dance wouldn’t be too much different.

“Hey kiddo,” Dad said, coming into Archie’s room and sitting on the edge of his bed. “Got some bad news for you.”

“What?” Archie sat up straight. “Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Dad said, putting a hand on Archie’s shoulder. “But Betty’s not going to be in town for the dance. Her parents got a last minute invitation to some journalism convention. I know you were planning on going with her, I’m sorry bud.”

“Who am I supposed to go with now?” Archie asked. He couldn’t show up alone.

“Go with a group of friends,” Dad shrugged. “You’re thirteen, you don’t need a date.”

“My friends have dates,” Archie pointed out.

“You’re telling me _Jughead_ has a date?” Dad asked, disbelieving.

“Well, no,” Archie said. “But that’s only one friend.”

“And you only need one,” Dad stood up and offered him the house phone. “Give Jughead a call and see what’s going on.”

Archie dialed the number and waited, still a little bummed.

“Hi Archie!” Jughead said. “What’s up?”

“Hey Jughead,” Archie said. Hearing his best friend so cheerful was chasing away a few of the dark clouds. “Are you going to the dance?”

“Yeah, isn’t everyone?” Jughead asked.

“Yeah, but Betty isn’t anymore.”

“Okay, we should go together then,” Jughead said. “My mom can drive us up.”

“Oh, okay,” Archie said, blinking. “Sounds good.”

“Cool, now guess what?”

“What?”

“My mom is gonna have a baby!” Jughead said. “I’m gonna be a big brother!”

“Wow,” Archie said. He couldn’t even imagine having a sibling. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Mom says it’s too soon to know, but it’s coming!” Archie would bet good money that Jughead was bouncing on the spot.

“That’s so cool!” Archie said. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“Same,” Jughead said. “I’ll see you tomorrow night!”

“See you then,” Archie said. He hung up and wandered downstairs to put the phone back in its charger.

“Not so bad, right?” Dad asked.

“Not so bad,” Archie nodded.

The next night, Archie pulled on his slacks and a button down shirt and stared at his tie for several minutes. He could do this.

He tried to remember the steps Dad had taught him, but it was no use.

Dad wasn’t even home either, stuck in traffic on the way home from a jobsite.

The doorbell rang.

Jughead was still wearing his hat, and he was dressed almost identically to Archie, but with black slacks instead of gray and a purple shirt instead of blue. He had a black tie.

“My mom says we can put down the skylight!” Jughead said, grabbing Archie’s wrist and pulling him to the car. “Let’s go.”

“Not so fast,” Mrs. Jones said. “Pictures first.”

Archie and Jughead both stuck out their tongues and Mrs. Jones snapped a picture.

“Attractive,” she said sarcastically. “Here Archie, let me get that tie for you.”

She quickly tied it for him. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, and Archie’s heart sank, just for a moment, because his own mom would never tie a tie for him.

“All done,” Mrs. Jones said, smoothing his shoulders down. “Oh you two look so handsome! Now smile boys.”

Archie smiled with his mouth closed, very aware of his braces.

“Mouth open,” Mrs. Jones said. Archie frowned and then smiled with his mouth open.

It seemed to take an eternity, though it couldn’t have been more than five minutes.

“Mom,” Jughead complained, dragging out the word. “We’re gonna be late.”

“Fashionably late,” Mrs. Jones corrected.

“It's not fashionably late if we're always late,” Jughead said.

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Jones raised her eyebrows.

“Nothing, I love you Mom,” Jughead said quickly, and they jumped in the car.

Mrs. Jones, true to her word, put down the skylight and they stuck their heads out, Jughead holding onto his hat with one hand and pumping the other one in the sky. All the work Archie’d done brushing his hair was undone, but he didn’t care, reveling in the feeling of the wind in his face and a friend by his side.

They arrived, windswept, and a few minutes late.

“Go on in, have a great time, I’ll pick you up at eight,” Mrs. Jones said, and They waved goodbye to her.

The dance was loud and they stood by the edge of the gym for the first half, awkwardly watching other people dancing in the center. Archie took his fifth cookie from the snack table.

“Why don’t you go dance?” the mom behind the table said. “These cookies are for everyone.”

Archie guiltily looked at his cookie and split it in half, handing the other side to Jughead.

They walked to the other corner of the gym before bursting into giggles.

“She looked like she was about to explode,” Jughead said gleefully.

Before Archie could respond, Reggie appeared.

“Come on guys,” Reggie cheered, bounding over to them and slinging his arms around them both. “Better late than never! Let’s dance!”

“Too much sprite,” Archie mouthed to Jughead.

“No kidding,” Jughead mouthed back.

“Guess who got their first kiss,” Reggie said.

“Who?” Archie asked.

“Me!” Reggie struck a pose, then dragged them to the center of the gym-turned-dance hall.

In the center, it was hard to tell that it was just the gym, with the multicolored lights and crowd of people. Archie lost track of time as the music blended together.

Suddenly, it was already eight, and the dance was over. The lights were on, the floor was covered in streamers, and the gym was just a gym.

Archie and Jughead traipsed outside with the rest of their classmates and waited for Mrs. Jones. She was late, as expected.

They hopped in, still red-faced with laughter and with their ties loosened.

“I’m guessing you two had a good time,” Mrs. Jones said. “Archie, would you like to sleep over? Your father said it was alright.”

“I’d love to,” Archie said. Jughead whooped.

At Jughead’s house, they grabbed sleeping bags and headed out to the treehouse.

“Be careful!” Mrs. Jones called up to them.

“I always am Mom,” Jughead called back down.

Archie snorted. Jughead shoved him, carefully avoiding looking at Archie’s scar. Archie internally rolled his eyes. Like Jughead didn’t have a wicked white scar across his left knee from being startled by Betty while climbing down.

They lay down their sleeping bags and stripped down to their boxers. It was dark, and slightly cold, and they slipped into the bags quickly. They lay in silence for a while.

“I still can’t believe Reggie got his first kiss before me,” Archie grumbled.

“It’s not like it’s a contest,” Jughead said, and the rustle of blankets told Archie he was shrugging.

“Still,” Archie said.

“Who do you think he kissed?” Jughead mused. “I know he went with Midge but I didn’t think she liked him enough to kiss him.”

“It was probably her,” Archie said. “I just can’t believe he was first.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Jughead insisted.

“Maybe not, but it’s a matter of honor now,” Archie decided. “If only Betty was here, then I could’ve had my first kiss tonight.”

“Didn’t she kiss you in second grade?” Jughead asked.

“That doesn’t count,” Archie rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

“Reggie still might’ve gone first anyway,” Jughead pointed out. “Whatever.”

“Actually,” Archie said, sitting up. “Actually.”

“Actually actually what?” Jughead asked.

“I could still technically have my first kiss tonight,” Archie said.

“Well, the closest girl after Betty is Cheryl,” Jughead said. “She’s a couple blocks away though.”

“Ew, not Cheryl,” Archie said. “You.”

“What about me?”

“Will you be my first kiss?” Archie’s heart was leaping up his throat. And of course, Jughead being Jughead, was just confused.

“Why me?” Jughead asked. “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m not kissing material.”

“But you’re my best friend and if I’m bad at it I won’t be embarrassed,” Archie said.

“That is a good point,” Jughead said, sitting up. “Alright, why not.”

For Archie, time seemed to slow down as their faces got closer together. For Jughead, apparently not. Jughead just planted a quick, chaste kiss on his lips and backed off again.

“Cool, happy first kiss Archie,” Jughead said, giving him a thumbs up.

“That was anticlimactic,” Archie said, a bit disappointed. “Does it even count if it’s under a second?”

“I’m pretty sure it counts if lips touch lips, right?”

“Probably,” Archie said. “But how am I supposed to know if I’m any good at all? We need to do it again.”

“You have braces, what if the metal cuts my lip?” Jughead protested.

“Come on man,” Archie complained. “Please?”

“Fine,” Jughead said. “But if your braces cut my mouth I’m gonna be pissed.”

Archie laughed, and this time, Jughead let Archie come to him. It lasted maybe another second before Jughead broke it off.

“Your lips are so chapped,” Jughead said. “Here,” he dug in the pocket of his slacks and handed Archie his chapstick.

Putting on the chapstick made the next kiss much better, at least for Archie.

After a few seconds, Archie broke the kiss.

“I think you’re probably pretty good,” Jughead said. “I wouldn’t know though.”

“You’re not bad either,” Archie said.

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

“I’m tired,” Jughead said, yawning as he spoke.

“No kidding,” Archie agreed. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

* * *

“No, we can’t do this, it’ll go on his permanent record,” Dad said. “We’ll have to find some other way to go about this.”

“Some other way?” Mom shrieked. “It’s your fault this happened in the first place!”

“It’s my fault?!” Dad’s face went red. “What makes you think you have the right to say that? You weren’t even here!”

“So now it’s my fault?” Mom looked about a step away from swelling like a balloon. “If you hadn’t been so busy this wouldn’t have happened. That’s why I left you in the first place, because you don’t have room for anything but work.”

“This is unproductive!” Archie shouted. “This isn’t the argument and you both know it. It’s not anyone’s fault but her’s. And mine.”

“Honey, this isn’t your fault,” Mom said, immediately calming down. “Not even close.”

“I wanted to,” Archie said. “I went along with it.”

“Whatever happened, she took advantage of you. She manipulated you,” Dad said.

Archie wanted nothing more than to escape this conversation.

“So you were on your way home from working,” Mom said, “and she offered you a ride home.”

Archie nodded. He didn’t think he felt sick enough about what had happened. He’d been complicit. It couldn’t have been rape if he’d wanted it, if he’d thought she was pretty. It couldn't be. It just couldn't.

“And what happened next?” Mom asked, gathering him into a hug. Archie stiffened, feeling Miss Grundy instead of his Mom for a moment, and Mom let go immediately. Mom and Dad exchanged looks.

“We have to report this,” Mom said.

“Yes, but we have to do this in a smart way,” Dad said. “This could affect his college chances, a future job he might want, a-”

“I can’t believe you’re putting that above our son!” Mom said, seething.

“I can’t believe you’re ignoring the world we live in!” Dad said. “Archie is a boy, that means that if we-”

“-IF?”

“Let me finish!” Dad bellowed. “If Archie chooses to go through with this, a lot of people are going to be saying some nasty things. This is one of the few cases in the world where it’s harder to be male. Male victims get less money, less sympathy, and half the time, they’re considered the predator rather than the prey, especially if it’s a young white woman that wears fucking heart-shaped sunglasses! We cannot force him into something if it’s going to cause him a lot of unwanted heartbreak.”

“We can’t just sit back and let her do this without some consequences.”

Archie couldn’t take it. He stood up and left, accidentally slamming the front door behind him. He took off, running with tears blurring in his eyes.

He ran in circles, random directions, barely able to see, but when he slowed to a stop he was somehow exactly the place he needed to be.

Jughead’s house.

Archie pulled out his phone to text him, but Jughead’s face was already looking through the window.

Archie waited for Jughead open the door.

“Come on in,” Jughead said, and Archie entered, taking off his shoes and sitting at Jughead’s kitchen table.

“My parents are at work,” Jughead said, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel. Jellybean banged her empty cup on her highchair.

“That’s fine,” Archie said.

“Were you crying?” Jellybean asked.

“Um, yeah.”

“Yeah, I cry sometimes,” Jellybean informed him loftily. “Jug is mean.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Jughead admonished her lightly, taking her out of the highchair and bringing her to the Jones’ living room. “I'm not mean. You hurt me in my heart.”

“You took Yoda,” Jellybean said, and stuck out her tongue.

“You dropped him on the floor,” Jughead said. “He’s right there.”

Sure enough, Yoda the stuffed frog was laying on the ground.

“Yay!” Jellybean said, and toddled over to him.

“You wanna talk?” Jughead asked.

“Yeah,” Archie said miserably, laying his head on the kitchen table.

“I’ll make you some tea,” Jughead said awkwardly. “That’s what my dad always does. Will you just keep an eye on her for a minute?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Archie said, sitting on the couch instead and watching Jellybean reenact Yoda training Luke in Empire Strikes Back with stuffed frog, a soda can, and Astronaut Barbie.

“Here,” Jughead said a couple minutes later, handing him a hot cup of tea in Archie’s favorite mug.

“Is it okay if she’s here?” Archie asked.

“She’s in her own world,” Jughead said. “But if you’re uncomfortable we can-”

“No, it’s fine,” Archie said. He paused. “My parents are arguing.”

“That is why they separated,” Jughead said. “Sorry, I was trying to inject from levity to the situation. I see now that that was a mistake.”

Archie shook his head. “No, you’re right, it’s just they’re arguing about what to do about Miss Grundy.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” Jughead asked.

“It just doesn’t feel like she did anything that bad,” Archie said. “I mean I know she did, in my brain, but it’s like my emotions don’t agree.”

“She did that,” Jughead said. “She twisted you up inside, tried to change who you are.”

“If you hadn’t seen I don’t know if I would’ve told anyone,” Archie admitted. “I think I would’ve just let it go on.”

“That’s not your fault,” Jughead said. “She’s very convincing. But just think about it. She’s a thirty-four year old woman. What right does she have to come onto you?”

Archie was silent. He took a long draught from the mug. He only ever liked tea when Jughead made it.

“Maybe I don’t want to talk,” Archie said. “Not right now.”

“I have an idea,” Jughead said. “Hey Jelly, wanna show Archie your surprise?”

“Yeah!” Jellybean immediately abandoned her toys and got to her feet. “It’s a-”

“Shhh, it’s a surprise, remember?” Jughead said, picking her up and balancing her on his hip. Archie suddenly got a very vivid image of Jughead as a father. “C’mon, we’ll show you.”

Archie followed them outside to the treehouse.

Jughead went up first with Jellybean, expertly avoiding dropping her despite her excited wiggling. Archie waited until they were at the top before heading up.

A square foot of one of the walls was painted white.

“It’s technically Jelly’s house now, but I thought we could leave our mark,” Jughead said, pouring some of the paint out onto the plate. He pressed his hand into it, then pressed it on the white corner.

“Jug,” Archie whispered. “I can’t believe-” He let the words drop and pressed his hand in the paint, and put his handprint next to Jughead’s. Jughead grinned and wiped his hand on a Clorox wipe. Jellybean got Archie one, or at least tried. While she struggled, Jughead picked up a sharpie and wrote “Jughead and Archie, 2017,” then a smiley face.

“And this was all your idea?” Archie asked Jellybean, when she finally handed him a Clorox wipe.

“Um,” Jellybean’s eyes darted to Jughead. “Yeah.”

She was a terrible liar.

* * *

Archie took off the graduation cap and studied it, sitting on the curb by the gym doors. A cheap square of blue with a yellow tassel, and that was it. He was done.

“Hey dude, come on,” Jughead said. “Stop brooding. It’s not like we’ll all stop being friends.”

“Everyone’s going different places,” Archie shrugged. “I dunno, I’d just thought graduation would be less-”

“-bittersweet?” Jughead asked. “Archie, it was always going to be like that.”

“I just hoped it wouldn’t be, I guess,” Archie stood up. “You have plans for right now?”

“My mom’s trying to invite the entire town over,” Jughead snorted. “I swear, she just straight up forgets we don’t have money anymore.”

Archie snorted.

“C’mon, give me a ride home,” Jughead said.

“Oh, why should I?” Archie teased. “We aren’t even classmates anymore.”

“Well, Betty, Veronica, and Reggie are waiting,” Jughead shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to get a different ride…”

“Heck no,” Archie said. “I’m driving. Wait, where’s Kevin?”

“He’s having his graduation party today,” Jughead said, leading the way to the parking lot.

“Today?” Archie asked. “Seems like a lot of stress.”

“His parents made him. We should stop by later though once he’s said hello to all his relatives.”

Archie nodded. “But for now, let me guess, your dad’s going to set up the grill?”

“Set it up before we left,” Jughead said. “My father knows me well.”

Archie grinned and pulled Jughead into a hug, then stole his hat.

“Rude,” Jughead complained, and stole it back easily.

“I hate that you’re taller.”

“Deal with it,” Jughead grinned back.

Archie drove them to Jughead’s house, his friends talking excitedly around him, teasing Jughead for the way the announcer had thoroughly bungled his name ("Ah yes," Reggie said, "My good friend fork-sith joanna") and arguing the pros and cons of different apps for a group chat.

Jughead’s house was empty when they got there, the parents distracted back at the school, and Jughead lead the way to the treehouse.

“Everyone up,” Jughead said.

“Into that?” Veronica said. “That looks like it’s about to fall apart.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Archie assured her, starting up the ladder.

“Says the one permanently disfigured by it,” Reggie said,

“Don’t be rude,” Archie said. “I think my scar is dashing.”

“Wait, that’s how you got it?” Veronica asked. “Oh hell no.”

“Just go up the ladder, you can handle it,” Betty said, nudging her towards it.

Archie looked in and saw the white square had been added to. He held his hand up against the old marking. His hand was a little bigger.

“Everyone ready?” Jughead asked, coming up last with some blue paint.

“I’m gonna get that on my dress,” Betty protested.

“Clorox wipes,” Archie said, picking them up from the corner.

They all placed their handprints on the wall in a line and signed them individually. Jughead labeled it with a sharpie:

“The Archies, 2020”

"Rip to our youth," Reggie said.

"Reggie, we're eighteen." Veronica said.

Archie just sat back and listened to them all bicker with a big smile on his face. Whatever happened next, he was still here, immortalized in dollar store paint.


End file.
